


Memories Forgotten: An Anthology

by obsydious



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Poetry, Gen, Poetry, Slam Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 01:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsydious/pseuds/obsydious
Summary: A collection of poems I've composed over the years, and maybe a story prompt here or there.





	1. Tiny, Little Pill

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this several years ago and recently revised it after some constructive advice was given, so hopefully this still reads as well as I think it does. Please leave a comment if you see anything that you think could be better clarified. Constructive advisory is always appreciated!

They say it will help  
This tiny, little pill  
It’s a pimple of thing  
Yet, _this will help_  
Though I feel the dark,   
Brooding cloud fade away  
And I may be content  
If not beaming with joy  
Can’t you see?  
This can’t be me  
But, _my eyes are sparking_ , they say  
No longer reflecting the ache  
Of the dull, lifeless void within  
And they smile at me  
Relieved, now that   
I’m laughing, I’m singing  
No longer obnoxiously sleeping  
Practically screaming: _finally, she’s back!_  
But… these are the things that make me?  
I apologize in advance  
I cannot recall, Miss  
Was this really me?  
 _Now_ , they say, _you’re doing much better_  
Wanting to venture  
Wanting to chatter  
Yet, still, I wonder  
Is this really my doing?  
Or the simple manipulation  
Of a tiny, little pill

5.14.18


	2. Can't You See?

There’s no mending to be made  
When in the market of malicious prospects  
Prosecuting madness, subduing to muteness  
Even after she’s battered and bloody   
Like the bodies at battle  
Decaying discrepantly decrepit

Tinkering thoughts toss the tell-tale  
Signs of struggle—  
Struck, split, smack  
Affectations of analytical attacks  
—the timid st-st-studders before him  
Fight or flight, but the target’s trapped

Wounded, wilted, wasted away  
She reminiscences the man who whisked her away  
Conventionally attractive, he fulfilled her desires  
Charmingly attentive with the promise wealth   
Stability she sought, though it now rots  
Naivety won out truth of his character

Hollow heart and head hanged  
She holds her sides with tear stained cheeks   
Rationalizing his aggression, his callous affection  
Logic pleading freedom, but heart craving love  
Hear her whimper, her whine  
The looting of her life  
Spark the fire in her soul  
Before the killing does its best

5.14.18


	3. There's no Such Thing as Making Up for Lost Time

I should have known, how inevitable  
That you would return, begging for a second chance  
Believing the past is history, unbelievable  
How dare you, look at me! 

Look at who I’ve become, no thanks to you  
Years spent dedicated to hatred, fantasizing the satisfaction  
For the God given day I cross your path  
Throw a swift punch at the face, there’s my retribution

Years spent trying to fill the void you left in me  
Searching for the father-figure worthy of me, one succeeded  
And she’s the greatest mother that could ever be  
Damaged and alone, she raised me on her own

So, keep begging for forgiveness  
Don’t tell me I’m being vicious  
With God as my witness  
This is my order of business 

You want a chance at redemption   
Consider the shit that I’ve faced  
Memories of the undesired, distressing  
The past won’t be erased

Envy tarnished our relationship before it started  
What you couldn’t provide your other kids, my family gave me  
All I wanted was your love, not something half-hearted  
But, even for that you weren’t really needed

Can’t you see, there’s not making up for lost time  
After thirteen years, what else would you incur  
The only way to gain my respect:  
Prove you’re the father you never were

5.14.18


End file.
